“I’m not Gunnar, and you will come downstairs for dinner. We will discuss going to the club for the evening afterward,” Wyatt said, adding a hefty dose of dominant power to his voice.
The tiny woman jumped to her feet with a gasp. He had just a moment to take in the swelling and colorful bruises on the left side of her face before she raised a hand to try and hide the injuries. She was a pretty little thing, despite the slowly fading bruises. The T-shirt and leggings she wore hung on her, emphasizing her fragility.
“Who the fuck are you two?”
“Language, pet. I’d hate to have to spank you before we’ve been formally introduced,” Wyatt said, still using his deep Dom voice. The woman’s pain was as easy to read as a neon sign at midnight.
The woman swallowed hard then whirled to face the window once more. “Go away. I told Jillian I won’t be leaving this room until my face heals. Even then, I won’t be going anywhere with you, whoever you are.”
“Turn around, pet. I’m sure Master Z taught you to look at the people you’re talking with.”
Levin shifted behind him, and Wyatt knew the submissive man was reacting to the dominant energy he was projecting. He was actually surprised Levin had not fallen to his knees by now. It took Blaze a few seconds to respond to the order. Taking a slow deep breath, she turned to face him but kept one hand raised to hide the left side of her face.
“Hands by your sides, Blaze,” Wyatt ordered gently. “Let us see you.”
* * * *
Blaze stared at the two men across the room, her gaze flitting from the one giving all the orders to the other, bigger one standing just behind his right shoulder. Both were the three Bs she’d always said a man had to have in order to spark her attention … big, built, and bold. The shorter man seemed to be in charge, giving orders and making demands. She had ignored those same words when they came from Jillian. Gunnar had been harder to ignore when he’d come to her room earlier in the day, but she had. She knew Gunnar would never lay a hand on her in anger, so she felt safe in denying his order to be downstairs for dinner.
So why did she feel compelled to follow this man out of her sanctuary when her face and body were still a dozen shades of battered?
Slowly, she lowered her hand, knotting her fingers together in front of her bellybutton as she waited for their reaction to her still swollen and colorfully bruised face.
“Good girl,” the dominant one praised with a smile that made her knees weak and her insides shiver with need.
She missed hearing those two words. She missed Master Z. She had to blink several times to keep the sudden tears that filled her eyes from falling and giving away her secret.
She was broken and wasn’t sure she would ever be able to put the many pieces of herself back together again.
“Who are you?” she asked again, this time without the expletive.
“Much better,” the bossy one said, his smile growing by degrees. “I’m Wyatt Jackson, and this is Levin Taylor. We own the Rocking JT Ranch next door.”
“Uh-huh,” Blaze grunted, still feeling confused about so many things. “And you are in my bedroom because?”
“Because Jillian looked distraught, and as a man, a Texan, and a sexual dominant, it is in my DNA to fix things. So, I offered to fetch you down for dinner.”
His answer confirmed her thinking, though she still didn’t understand why she was capitulating to him. Yes, he was broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, and wearing cowboy boots, everything she loved in a man, but that was no reason to give in. His dark brown hair was cut military short, and he had the posture of a man who had once served his country. Having lived in New Bern and dealt with military personnel on occasion, she could easily read the signs. This man was former military, a Dom, and, for some reason, wanted her submission, at least on going downstairs for dinner.
She shifted attention to Levin, the silent one. He was a few inches taller and broader than Wyatt, with golden-brown hair that looked overdue for a haircut. His posture was also military straight, but he seemed to take his cues from Wyatt. While he looked concerned, he remained silent as she battled wills with his friend.
“As I told Jillian just a few minutes ago, I’m not hungry, and I’d rather not visit the club until the bruises have faded,” she said, waving a hand from the left side of her face down her body where the other bruises were hidden by her clothes.
Wyatt shook his head. “Not an option, pet. Tonight, you will be coming downstairs for dinner, and afterwards, the three of us will be going to the club. We will show you around the club and get you back into club life. You’ve crawled into a dark place, and we’re here to help you rise back out of it.”
Not sure why she was tempted to give in, Blaze crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her tits up and out. While both men’s eyes dropped to her chest, they rose to her face again a second later.
Then both men took two steps closer.
“And why would I do that? You two are strangers, and my mama taught me when I was a very small child not to go anywhere with strangers.” Blaze worked to put some snark in her voice, but failed. Instead, she sounded pitifully lost.
“Why don’t we all go downstairs so Gunnar can introduce us properly? Then we won’t be strangers any longer,” Wyatt said with a smirk, though Blaze could tell he was beginning to lose patience. “You have five seconds to get your ass out into the hall.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then Levin will be carrying you downstairs, and you’ll be spanked for disobedience later tonight at the club,” Wyatt answered easily. “Five … four …”
Blaze’s eyes widened at his confidence, though she found her body starting to move toward the door.
“One,” Wyatt said as she was still two steps from the door.
In the next instant, she found herself lifted into a pair of thick, muscular arms.
“Hey,” she said, trying to struggle against his hold. Problem was the arms around her tightened just enough to keep her secure, which pressed against several still sore spots.
She sucked a breath as she immediately stopped moving. Turning her head, she looked up at the big man holding her. “You’re his slave, aren’t you?”
Levin paused long enough for Wyatt to nod before he said, “It’s complicated, and we’ll explain it all later tonight.”
Levin did not set her down until they reached the living room. As soon as he did, she stepped away from the two men, moving around the table to stand beside her best friend. Before she could say a word to protest their actions, Gunnar took her hand. He led her back to stand in front of Wyatt and Levin. He laid his big hands gently on her shoulders to keep her from escaping.
Bending down until they were eye to eye, he said, “I’m sure they’ve already introduced themselves, but I also know you need to hear this from me. Wyatt Jackson and Levin Taylor are good men and good friends. For the rest of the evening, I am placing you in their care. Trust me, trust them, and, most of all, trust that famous sixth sense of yours. Okay?”
Blaze took a deep breath and released it in a whoosh. How could she reject these men when they had apparently been handpicked by Gunnar?
Blaze met Gunnar’s dark brown eyes before she softly said, “Yes, Sir.”
“Yay.” Jillian gave a little cheer.
“Now, let’s eat dinner, and then you ladies, and Levin, will need to change into something a little more club appropriate,” Gunnar said.
Before she could argue that there was no way she was going to wear something skimpy to show off the rest of bruises that colorfully decorated her body, Jillian grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the room.
“I’ve got an outfit all picked out for you,” she said softly as the two women headed to the kitchen to tell the cook they were ready to eat.
Chapter Four
By the time dinner ended, Levin was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn’t just because of the woman sitting next to him who he wanted to help heal. The plug Master had
inserted into his ass just before they had left their house had something to do with it. Master had also promised that before the night was over, the plug in his ass would be removed and replaced with his master’s cock. He could only hope that time would be sooner rather than later.
For now, he’d be willing to wear it all night, if only he could have a kiss from the sweet submissive sitting next to him. She seemed prickly, but he could see the hurt she tried to hide with her snarky attitude. It peeked out every time he or Wyatt, who was sitting on her other side, added something to her plate or picked something up and hand fed it to her.
Jillian watched their interactions with amazement while her husband looked on with a slight smile of approval. Blaze herself seemed overwhelmed and unable to comprehend what was happening. It was as if no one had taken care of the woman in a long time. Much longer than the months since her Master had died.
Which couldn’t be possible, could it? Surely someone had stepped in to help her adjust to life without her Master.
But then again, if someone had, the woman would not have withered as she had. When Levin picked her up, he was shocked at how light she was in his arms. That was the moment he decided he would be stepping in and taking over her care. With Wyatt’s approval, of course.
He had exchanged looks with Wyatt over Blaze’s head numerous times throughout the meal, but he couldn’t read his master’s intentions. Wyatt had taken to wearing his expressionless Dom face. Levin would have to find a moment before they headed to the club to share his wanting to take on the tiny woman who needed someone to love and take care of her.
When the meal finally ended, Gunnar pushed back from the table. “Wyatt, why don’t we retire to the game room while the subbies get ready to go to the club?”
“Sounds like a fine idea,” Wyatt agreed without consulting him.
Levin stood then helped Blaze rise from her chair. Once she was on her feet, he leaned down and brushed a kiss on her unmarked cheek. The action would earn him a stroke or two later on, but it would be worth it. “Don’t bother with makeup, little one. And bring your comb and a hair tie when you come back and I’ll braid your hair for you when we get to the club.”
Blaze gave him a look that said she wasn’t sure what to make of his soft words. When he smiled and quirked an eyebrow at her, she dropped her chin once in agreement before scurrying from the room. Jillian smiled at him before following her friend at a slower pace.
Once the ladies were out of sight, he looked at Wyatt and shrugged. “Thought I’d try.”
Wyatt stepped closer then wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down for a quick, hard kiss. “You did very well, boy. She will need to accept your guidance as well as mine. For now, you need to change. Your bag is in the bathroom under the stairs.”
“Yes, Master.” Levin lifted the hand of his Master not threaded through his hair and kissed the big gold ring his master wore. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, boy. Now go get changed, or you won’t get the pleasure I’ve promised you.” Wyatt released his neck and swatted his right ass cheek.
Hurrying from the dining room, Levin heard the two dominants chuckle as they headed out another door toward the game room at the back of the house.
* * * *
“I can’t do this,” Blaze said, even as she allowed Jillian to pull her into a room on the second floor she had not been shown. Granted, she had not ventured farther than her own guest room with its en suite bathroom and the path to the kitchen.
After stepping inside, her eyes went wide as she saw all the colorful silks and satins hanging on one side of the room while black leather pants, boots, and vests occupied the opposite wall. “What…”
“Master set this room up before I arrived. I found your box of clubwear and hung your things on this rack.” Jillian motioned to a corner where clothes Blaze recognized as her own hung.
“I can’t do this,” Blaze repeated, the shattered pieces of her heart shivering with the sadness that seemed to be growing daily.
Jillian ignored her and left the room. She returned a moment later carrying a neon blue sports bra and a pair of black boy shorts from her bedroom. “Put these on,” she said, handing over the underwear.
Blaze looked from the clothes to her friend. “I can’t.”
“Sure, you can. Just take off what you’re wearing and put them on. Then we’ll find something to add on top. Maybe your feisty kitty T-shirt,” Jillian said as she stripped off her own clothes and pulled on an emerald green satin thong. A moment later, she began hooking up a long-line bustier that matched the thong.
Not comfortable with her own body anymore, Blaze turned her back on her friend and slowly pushed off the leggings she wore. She moved carefully as she pulled on the panties Jillian had handed her. With a deep breath, which she held, she pulled the T-shirt over her head, wincing as her ribs protested the movement. Her ribs were only bruised, but the doctor said it might take a couple months for her to fully heal. She only hoped Wyatt and Levin understood that when she refused to play with them.
It took more wincing and biting her lip against the whimpers of pain that wanted to escape for her to wrestle the sports bra into position. Finally her most intimate bits and pieces were fully covered.
She took a moment to catch her breath and wipe away a stray tear or two before she could face her best friend. Jillian wore a short-short denim skirt with her bustier and was wiping her own eyes as her gentle emotions dealt with the bruises that covered much of Blaze’s body.
“I’m alive, and he’s in jail, Jillian. Stop worrying.” Blaze reassured her friend. “Now, what am I going to wear on top of this?”
“Hmmm, hang on. Stay right here, and I’ll be right back,” Jillian said as she turned and hurried from the room.
Blaze crossed to a stood that was sitting in the middle of the room, grateful to be able to sit down for a moment. While she waited for Jillian to return, she thought about what Wyatt had said earlier.
Though reluctant to admit it, she had to agree with him. Ever since Master Z’s death, she had allowed herself to get bogged down in a pit of depression, wallowing in the muck and mire of darkness with no way to pull herself out.
Would spending the evening with these two men help her find a way out? Or would it just add to her sadness because she couldn’t give them what they wanted, whatever that might be? Though she had scened with more than one man in an evening of play back in North Carolina, that was before Master Z had taken her under his command.
She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to please two men.
She slowly rose from the stool, unable to hold back a deep groan of pain. Before she could make her way out of the clubwear closet with the intent of returning to her room and hiding, Jillian was back, holding a shirt.
A familiar-looking, pinstriped, snap-front dress shirt. Levin had been wearing that shirt at dinner just a few minutes ago.
With a snap of the shirt, Jillian held it up so Blaze could ease herself into it. “Levin’s not going to be needing this tonight, and Wyatt didn’t want you wearing one of Gunnar’s shirts.”
“Okaaaay,” Blaze said as she eased her arms into the sleeves and shrugged it on.
She had to fold the cuffs up several times before her hands emerged. She then snapped up the front of the shirt. Moving across the room, she looked at her reflection in the mirror and gave a little smile. With the long sleeves covering her arms and the body of the shirt falling nearly to her knees, the shirt covered nearly all of her bruises.
Then she looked at her face, and her small smile faded. Even though the skin around her eye had healed enough she could open it, the left side of her face was still a colorful mishmash of blues, greens, and purples. And Levin had told her not to wear any makeup.
“Ballet flats or sneakers?” Jillian asked.
“I’ll get them,” Blaze responded as she turned and slowly headed for the door. “I need to get my comb and a hair tie.”
; Jillian followed closely as Blaze went into her room and slid on the first pair of shoes she came to, shiny silvery purple ballet flats that made her smile. A trip into the bathroom for the hair supplies Levin requested and she was ready to go.
“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” she whispered as Jillian took her hand and practically dragged her out of her room.
“It will be fine,” Jillian assured her. “Wyatt and Levin will take good care of you. You don’t have to play, with them or anyone else, if you don’t want to. Remember, as submissives, we hold all the power. Now, what’s your safe word?”
“Red,” Blaze answered automatically.
She stared at her friend, shocked that Jillian had taken on the role of bossy encourager. That had always been her role. The bossy, bratty sub who, once upon a time long, long ago, had not realized what she was really looking for until she’d been placed in Master Z’s care.
Problem was, at this point in her life, Blaze wasn’t sure she could bow down and be submissive to anyone, even if that was exactly what she needed.
Knowing she couldn’t get out of what was to come in the next few hours, Blaze forced herself to change perspective. “All right, bestie friend of mine, let’s go see what this club of yours is all about.”
* * * *
Wyatt smiled when Levin joined them in the media room, wearing only a pair of flip-flops and a pair of black boxer-briefs that hugged his body. His golden skin gleamed from the shower they’d taken earlier, and Wyatt’s cock twitched in anticipation of the evening ahead. He only hoped their playing included at least a little fun with Blaze as they got to know the hurting woman.
“Damn, you look good, boy,” he said as Levin knelt before him and offered up the tooled black leather collar he wore when they went clubbing.
“Thank you, Master,” Levin answered, looking up and waiting patiently while Wyatt locked the collar around his thick neck.
Texas Blaze Page 3